


The Contract

by Khelkhet



Series: Akila of Cimmeria [1]
Category: Conan - Robert E. Howard, Conan Exiles (Video Game), Conan the Barbarian & Related Fandoms, Conan the Barbarian (1980s Movies)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 13:04:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11669685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khelkhet/pseuds/Khelkhet
Summary: Two men, a client and a contractor, have met in a shady corner to discuss the fate of an unsuspecting woman.





	The Contract

“You’ll have to be swift,” murmured the Client, his dark eyes darting out into the more brightly lit floor section of the tavern to where a pair of dancers kept the attention of most pairs of eyes--and hands--with barely an effort. “If she figures out what you’re doing, she’ll going to fight you every step of the way.” 

 

He sighed, then, tugging the fur hood down a touch further over his forehead, then nervously peered around his dark surroundings. Even lit only by the small candle, his table was shadowed and uncomfortably private. It bothered him that such out-of-sight booths existed at all, let alone that he had cause to make use of one. 

 

“And watch her tongue,” He added, almost as an afterthought, “She’ll make a deal with you, and then cut you with the parchment it’s written on.”

 

To his left, rather than across from him--a choice that concerned the cloaked man, as it cornered him into the booth--another shadowy sort had rested his elbows on the table, folded his gauntleted hands and now rested them under his chin, effectively blocking his client from departing and keeping him entirely out of sight.

 

“Swordsman?” Asked the other.

 

The cloaked man shook his head. “She prefers the bow and her daggers, hidden about her body. You will need to either drug her or bash her in the head. Preferably the former, I don’t want her  _ killed _ .”

 

“Murder is not usually my area,” replied the Other. His accent wasn’t one the client was familiar with, and sounded somehow strange. Melodic, almost, the cloaked man had concluded, and made a mental note of that. “Though I have been known to dabble where necessary, we’ll do what we can to take her alive... She’s no good to me dead.”

 

The cloaked man sighed, “Please do,” he murmured, “Her bow can be sabotaged, and with this,” he placed upon the table a small palm-sized vial, “You can temporarily paralyze her, if you can get her to drink it. It won’t last long. Long enough to…” 

 

To what? The client suddenly felt a stir in his chest. What -was- he doing, anyway, sitting in shady corners paying men to do terrible things that he could not bring himself to do?

 

He slid his seat back a touch so he could begin to stand, “This was a mistake, I--”

 

“Sit.”

 

The single simple word was spoken gently, but there was still no doubt it was a command and not a request. The cloaked man sat, exhaling slowly as he repeated. “This is a mistake,” he repeated, “Anything could go wrong, and should you fail--”

 

“If I were known for my failures, you would not have gone through so much trouble to make this arrangement,” the other replied sweetly in an attempt to reassure his contractor. “Just show me my prey, give me my gold, and leave me to my work.”

 

With this last chance to retreat, however, the cloaked man caved. He handed a small bag to his companion, hanging onto it for a few seconds too long. “Anonymity? Confidence?”

 

“Of course. All part of the contract; none shall know who has hired me, nor to do what. I am not new to this. Which is she?” His dark eyes followed when his client gestured, indicating a particularly engaged young woman. He raised a brow, “Not bad on the eyes. A little thin for a Cimmerian. Don’t usually see them tossing their shirts and jiggling their tits with the dancers.”

 

“Can you take her, or not?” Blurted the client, his anxiousness wearing to impatience.

 

“Of course.” came the answer. A hand dropped under the table.

 

“She won’t be harmed?”

 

The bigger man smirked into his mug, still watching the girl in question, who had paused to kiss the man she’d been dancing with,  “Not permanently.”

 

“Where will you take her?”

 

“You wouldn’t be paying me to take away your brother’s child if you cared to know where she was going.”

 

The client narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you even care to know -why-?”

 

The man grinned big, his teeth lining up into an almost perfect smile. “Don’t really care.”

 

The cloaked man was far too uncomfortable by this point to remain. He scowled. “Just...Do what must be done. We’ll speak again in a week and you shall receive the rest of your payment.” and with that he removed a foreign hand that had--somehow--ended up on his thigh and hurriedly stood. In his haste to depart he nearly knocked over his chair.

 

Left alone, the contract holder chuckled quietly to himself. “What could you have done to deserve me?” he wondered, and read aloud, “Miserable, grouchy, pessimistic, depressed, lonely--threatening to do *what* with a Fork? Send lightning where?...Oh, no wonder a man would pay half a million for me to take you out.” 

 

The man shrugged, “Well, Akila of Cimmeria,” he mused to the shadows, fingers curling around the vial he’d been given, “I rarely say this, but I would have taken you down for free.”

 

***

 

“Is it done?” Asked the black-haired woman, barely lifting her head from her pillow as she watched the door gently open and close again. She extended a hand, which was taken into a much bigger one and brought to his lips as he made his way to sit on the edge of the rough hewn bed. 

 

He drew a breath before he answered. “It is done. Your daughter will be gone by morning, no doubt.”

 

The woman sighed, relieved, and pulled herself upright. “Then we can try to rebuild,” she offered, reaching a hand to touch the rough stubble of her lover’s chin. “We’ve done the right thing...Remember the plan! Tell me you are not having second thoughts, my love.”

 

There was a brief hesitation. “No. No second thoughts.” and with that, he leaned in for a kiss, embracing the woman who would be his wife, once all the pieces were in place.


End file.
